


hate me, chase me, but you wanna date me

by sebastianhawk



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Arm Wrestling, Bad Flirting, Bars, Brief Huntara Reference, Canon Divergence, Curses, Dragon's Daughter, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone is part of Mermista's crew, F/M, Gambling, Hordak is a Pirate King, I mean unless you count Mermista being a mermaid, Irresponsible use of weapons, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Mermaid Stuff, My god! These bitches bi, Pirate Captain!Mermista, Rivals, Sailing, Scars, Sea Hawk sails alone, Swearing like a Sailor, Swordfighting, Swordplay, Swords, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, Those flowy pirate shirts mmm, Trans Male Character, Trans Sea Hawk, nobody has powers, so many bisexuals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastianhawk/pseuds/sebastianhawk
Summary: Foretold in ancient prophecies is the fantastical Heart of the Sea, a gauntlet that, with its selected wearer, grants godlike control over the oceans.Both Mermista and Sea Hawk believe they are the chosen ones, and will do anything to stop the other from getting it. As sworn rivals, it is their job to keep any magical items or treasure out of the enemy's hands.However, things get more complicated when they start to begrudgingly fall for each other.Including a healthy share of:- Swordfights with erotic undertones- Tacky pirate fashion- Snappy comebacks- Seagulls?
Relationships: Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

"This is your last chance to hand it over. You come any closer, and I'll have no choice but to attack." With her lance drawn, the captain of the Mystic Pearl guarded the plank that bridged the gap between her and the enemy.

He twirled the amulet around his finger, chest puffed, his sword still in its holster. "Oh, but you won't. I have what you want, you see. Attack me, and you lose the necklace _._ " She stiffened as he dangled it over the churning water below.

"I'll flay you like a fish, if that's what it takes. I'm not worried about _you._ " Pointing the sword at him, she scowled. "Now give. It. Back."

"You'll have to try harder than that, princess." With a hand on the holster, he pranced a few feet across the plank, the bounty strung precariously around his wrist. "Come and get it."

She cursed him under her breath and vaulted the railing to meet him. His stupid smirk was tempting the tip of her lance. The plank wobbled as she landed, and he skidded backwards, his blade drawn to block hers.

Sea Hawk, which was his ridiculous alias, paid the due for a pirate's life in scars. Mermista knew this because his choice of shirt left little to the imagination. His biceps and shoulders were covered in them, with little pockmarks all around, the exception being two large and seemingly intentional ones under his pectorals. Ever since they had healed, the vain man seemed to forgo buttons or laces entirely.

She had only doted on it because the urge to give him a new scar was overwhelming.

Grunting, their steel swashes echoed through the open air , and the Pearl's crew watched the tussle in stunned silence. Though she was focused on blocking his sloppy strikes, she noticed a fresh, slightly scabbed cut where the untouched skin of his neck met his shoulder. She had faced him so many times that she could list the exact battle, the exact slip-up that earned him each scar. If not her, who else was dueling with him? They were sworn rivals, were they not?

"Who gave you that?" Mermista questioned him through gritted teeth.

"Why? Jealous?" He winked.

She sputtered. "As if. You look like a... villain. A bad one, at that."

"The ladies love a good villain."

Panting, she put a second hand on the hilt. "Not this one." As small for a man as he was, Sea Hawk possessed measurable endurance. That was all she would accredit to him.

"What's the matter? Can't keep up?" He chuckled.

"No." Ducking under his blade, she grabbed his wrist and wrenched the weapon away from him. He floundered as it rolled off of the plank, and into the inky green sea. With the dull end of her blade, she tilted up his chin. "The question is, can _you_ keep up?"

Sea Hawk gasped. "How could you? My grandmother gave me that sword on her deathbed."

Mermista rolled her eyes. "No, she didn't."

He hung his head, sighing. "You're right. She didn't. But she did teach me the importance of preparedness." With a grin, he tore the necklace off of his wrist, he reared back and chucked it into the sea.

She gaped, struggling to find the right words to describe the situation.

"What the fuck?"

After a moment of hesitation, Mermista hurled herself into the sea off of the crowded plank, her legs melding into a shiny fish tail mid-dive. She clambered and splashed, trying to find where it had sunk. After a solid minute of swimming and searching, she came up empty-handed and exhausted, her head floating like a buoy aside the ship.

Sea Hawk ran a hand through his hair. "When will you learn? Chasing me is useless. I always win." From his pocket he pulled a nearly identical amulet. "Nice trick, eh? You were so quick to jump after a piece of costume jewelry." He strung it around his neck, and it glowed. "But I really must be on my way. As fun as this little gadget is, I'm after bigger fish."

With a grimace, she picked a piece of seaweed from her hair. "You wish. The Heart of the Sea will _never_ chose someone like you."

Staring down at her, he shrugged. "Perhaps. All that matters is that I beat you to it. Just to see the look on your face. Although, this is quite the sight, I must say."

He leaped back onto the Dragon's Daughter, one sword short but one magical item richer, and sailed away, singing an obnoxious shanty to himself.

"Ta-ta!"

Mermista fumed. Her crew stared uselessly down at her, befuddled by the utter disaster of an encounter that had just played out.

"A little help? Maybe, oh, I don't know, get me _out_ of here?"

As she grabbed onto the rope extended to her, she squinted at the horizon. She was going to get her revenge, and prove him wrong harder than anybody had been proved wrong before. He was her mortal foe. So why couldn't she stop thinking about a stupid _cut_ on his neck? Nonetheless, the Heart of the Sea waited for nobody except its chosen.

And who else better than a mermaid to chose?


	2. 2.

Changed into dry clothes, a lace-up blouse with flared sleeves that cinched at the wrist, Mermista paced the deck, her brow furrowed and lips curled in deep thought. No one dared speak, until a voice called down from the crow's nest.

"So... we're just going to pretend like you didn't totally eat it out there?"

"Catra! Come on." Catra's partner, Adora, gave her a gentle shove, perched next to her.

"I won't come on! How long are we going to have to sit back and watch these two go at it before we actually get to do something? This isn't what I signed up for, _Captain._ You're running a one-woman show."

Mermista balled her fists. "I already told you. I have to be the one to best him. And I don't want any help with it. There's plenty of things to do around the ship, everyone. I think I can take on a single sailor."

Bow, who was drawing up a map, chewed his cheek. "Captain, I don't mean to butt in where I'm not welcome, but I really think we could assist."

The last two crew members, Scorpia and Perfuma, emerged from the sleeping quarters.

"What are we arguing about here? I don't like it when you all fight."

Perfuma nodded, hanging onto her lover's arm. "Look, I'm sorry I hesitated with the rope. Is that what you're upset about?"

Stopping her paces, she sighed. "No. I'm not upset at any of you. What I'm upset about is this _idiot_ always being one step ahead of me. I don't know who he's working for or how his dinky sailboat is first to the treasure site, but it's just not right."

Scorpia stroked her chin with a claw. "Then how about you train us?"

Mermista raised an eyebrow. "Train you?"

From behind her, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah! You know, like a boot camp. Whip us into shape, into proper pirates."

"Fuck! Glimmer, you scared the shit out of me."

"Then I guess my rogue abilities are improving. Yes." She pumped a fist.

Crossing her arms, Mermista marched to the middle of the deck. "Fine. You all want training?"

Everyone nodded in sync, humming in agreement.

"Then drop and give me fifty. I'm not messing around! We're going to be the best ragtag crew of pirates the sea has ever seen."

They all stared at her in a moment of stunned silence, and she flushed.

" _I mean it!_ "

Clamoring to the floor, there was a chorus of grunting and the sound of struggle.

"Bow!" She squatted down to his eye level. "You're not just our cartographer anymore. You're our watchman."

"Adora!" Adora was repping up and down with some effort. "You're our powder monkey. You see anyone coming close? Man the cannons."

She stopped her presses. "We have cannons?"

"Ugh. Yes! Scorpia!"

Scorpia had one arm tucked behind her back, flaunting her strength.

"You're our muscle. Feel free to knock 'em around a bit."

She nodded, and gave a salute with her free arm.

"Perfuma?" Perfuma had already collapsed. "... You'll be our medic."

Catra was competing with Adora, the two of them smiling through a grimace and trying to go faster than the other.

"Alright. Um. Catra, you're going to..." She had a choice to make, given the obvious tension between the two, whatever that tension was.

"You can help Adora with the cannons. It's a two-woman job."

They glared at each other, but Mermista waved a hand and broke their gaze. "Cooperate."

"And Glimmer!"

Glimmer had managed to make her way over to the doorway, picking at her fingernails. "Oh, you don't have to tell me twice. I'll be the stealth." She grinned.

"Fantastic. You all can stop now, you know." Everyone let out a collective sigh of exhaustion. "So, now you all have something to do."

Bow wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned against a barrel. "Are you sure you're not going to sideline us again?"

Mermista sucked her teeth. "Yes. Promise. But I only want you all moving if he breeches the vessel. And if you can get your hands on him? Get him to the holding cell so I can interrogate the bastard about who hired him."

Catra cracked her knuckles. "Need someone to make him talk?"

Adora swatted her. "No!"

Shrugging, Mermista walked below deck. "I didn't say no. But leave it to me."

* * *

As the half moon emerged from behind the clouds of the evening, Sea Hawk anchored his sailboat in a rocky shoal. The shore was surrounded by cliffs, and built into the far side, where he had parked, was his destination.

A sign carved into the stone read "Outpost A." He reached into his rucksack to ensure the necklace was still there. It was, glowing with a soft warmth in his palm. He rolled his shoulders back, exhaling, and put his hand flat against the cliffside.

With a dull hum, it traced him, and the rock slid aside to reveal an opening. In a direct contrast to the roughage, the walls inside were sleek and futuristic, portraits and showcases lining them. Sea Hawk traced his fingers along the display glass, treasures and gold locked within. A voice reverberated off of the echoey chamber.

"Did you get the bounty?"

A twinge of fear shot through him, and he reluctantly bowed.

"Yes, sir."

Sitting at an imposing desk in a high-backed throne was a pale man with indigo locks and red irises that glowed in the dim light.

"Please. Call me Hordak. We are well acquainted by now, you'd think."


	3. 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mermista seeks out sea hawk in the dryl marketplace, where sea hawk tests his luck with a strange new artifact.

At dawn, Mermista was at her usual position, at the starboard. Pacing. Seagulls circled overhead the ship, which meant land. She chittered softly, and a single gull lowered itself from flight, perching on her shoulder.

With a quiet gasp, she realized that the birds could help her out. All this time she had spent trying to get word of mouth about Sea Hawk's location from human beings, she could have been talking to the allies that she dismissed as pests every morning.

"Alright, little guy. Find me The Dragon's Daughter."

Except, it didn't sound like that. It sounded like incomprehensible shrieking, which was enough to wake the rest of the crew.

She could hear them rouse below deck, and she sighed. Having a mortal enemy was _such_ a chore. But whatever intel she could gather about the gauntlet was beneficial. Who knew, perhaps he was on his way to some stronger, more dangerous piece of treasure, a magic item even more coveted than the Heart of the Sea. He always seemed to be after a bounty, one where the knowledge of its existence came to Mermista a day too late, and he was already off to the next.

After their scuffle, she had discovered that the necklace, besides glowing mysteriously, gave the wearer the ability to create fire with their hands, albeit with a bit of training. It was called the Phoenix Amulet, and now it was in Sea Hawk's possession. That was, unless, he was working for someone, which she had suspected since the beginning. He certainly didn't need it, given his reputation preceded him, with his propensity for setting boats aflame.

It didn't matter. Her seagull had taken off, and it was on its way to find him.

Catra yawned, visibly displeased. "Good morning. Oh, no need for cannons yet? Guess it's back to bed."

Mermista yanked the back of her shirt. "No, I need you all at your outposts. That's not an excuse."

She crossed her arms. "Really?"

Glaring, she mirrored Catra's posture. "Really. Now get the rest up here."

Now, she had them all sleepily at their stations, vigilant under the dull blue sky.

"Our mission today is--hey--!" Two talons tangled themselves in her hair as the seagull squawked out a message.

"Oh, um, change of plans."

Scorpia gasped. "How do you do that?"

"It's a mermaid thing. The seagull says that he's headed west, towards the market to sell. We have to meet him there before he can, well, I don't know what he plans to do with all that treasure."

Adora raised her hand. "Probably buy a new sword."

GIimmer and Bow stifled their laughter.

"Hey! You two are supposed to be on completely different parts of the ship. Get to your spots. Scorpia, Perfuma, you two as well. Ugh." She marched to the front, pulling a small telescope from her pocket. "Look. There he is, headed towards land."

* * *

It was strange. A single seagull had swooped above his sailboat, before promptly turning back without a sound. Sea Hawk had always embraced the strange, the unorthodox, so he didn't think much of it. Besides, he had more important things to worry about than a bird. His rucksack was full of jewels, and not just any jewels. They were from caches and bounties that he had reported as stolen, or omitted completely from his report to his supervisor. Of course, these were to be sold. Besides, if Hordak was going to be too lazy to get out and find them himself, then Sea Hawk could at least make an external profit. His boss wasn't about to give him a new sword, either. Ah, Mermista, wild and unpredictable as ever, had kicked his weapon overboard, but it wasn't going to be a problem.

Dryl was, despite its seemingly barren outlands, was a hotspot for trade and tech, especially those of the magical variety. A blade shouldn't be hard to come across. Perhaps he could find one with a fun enchantment and _really_ catch her off guard the next time they crossed paths.

The sparse greenery of the mountain landscape was clearer as he neared. It was rich with purples and earthy browns, an expanse of rock.

And after docking his boat, he was headed to the core.

The path to the market was a daunting one, the only plant life being thorns and brush that liked to stick to his slacks. There were other travelers who were parked in the tiny harbor as well, probably headed to the same place. That was alright, because the vendors weren't going to sell to anyone else for any less than the bounty he was about to offer. The path steepened and then plateaued, and he could see colorful tents and stand crowded together, narrow paths designated between them where carts and merchants were squeezing through with their goods.

As chaotic as this economy looked, he was happy to finally have arrived. Truth be told, he had been getting a little bit seasick. Plus, it wasn't much fun to always be on the run, even though it might provide him with a thrill sometimes.

It wasn't his usual stop, but a small stand draped in lavender tapestries caught his eye. He could see the glint of metal and the sparkle of armour in the sun, and a purple-haired vendor squatted on an upholstered stool. She was wearing thick gloves and tinted goggles, and waved him over enthusiastically.

"Hi there, traveler! Interested in my," she gestured to a diverse display of items, "horde?"

"Oh, yes. What is it that you specialize in?" He knelt to see the array of weapons.

"Well, you see, I'm not just any old smith. These come with a history attached, and I fix them up." She grinned, clearly proud of herself.

"A history? Does that history have anything to do with..." He lowered his voice. "...Arcana?"

"Arcana? Of course. I'm gonna assume you have something particular in mind."

He nodded. "A sword."

The woman chuckled. "I have plenty of those. Take your pick. This one is enchanted to be extra sharp! This one gives you a sort of psychic shield when you're hurt, this one can help you speak to animals."

Sea Hawk stroked his chin. "You're sure you don't have anything a bit less pedestrian?"

"I'd hardly describe these as pedestrian. This is what I offer to every buyer. And as nice as you seem, I'm not about to change that."

With a frown, he dug into his bag. "I think I could, though."

"Mmm...I don't think so." She smiled.

"Does this do anything for you?" The bag of coins, jewelry, and findings thudded onto the counter, and her eyes sparkled.

"What is it?"

"I don't mean to boast, but there's definitely some interesting relics in there that need some caring for. That, and enough money to last you well past this year." He put a hand on his hip, the other leaning on the surface.

"Oh, oh, I'll sell you any of this. All of it." Her voice was breathy with excitement.

"Any of this?"

"Any."

"Then tell me, what's in the back there? That trunk." He pointed to a chest, which was bound in chains. "I'm not just your regular customer, you see."

"That. Er. I don't know if you want that."

"Don't think I could handle it?" A smirk crossed his lips.

"No, it's not that. The last wielder of it, the sword, they sort of, may have went a bit insane...?"

"Insane? Well, lucky for you, I'm quite stable. You don't have to worry about any returns, if that's your concern. What's it do?"

"Mister, I really wouldn't feel good about giving this to you. I'm still trying to work out the bugs."

"Please. I'm not asking about the bugs, nor its history. I just need to know if I'm going to win my next duel."

"Statistically? Your chances would be incredibly good with this weapon, if you're the right kind of wielder. It gives its holder a sort of inhuman strength, nimbleness that couldn't be taught. It can turn a novice into a skilled swordsman overnight."

"Wow. I...I'll take it." He clenched his fist.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes." He emptied out the entire contents of his bag onto the counter in a frenzy, his eyes fixed on the trunk. "Tell me, what's your name, kind seller?"

"It's Entrapta. Nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again in a few hours. Heh." She struggled with the chains, the key stashed in her overalls pocket.

"I don't think so. But thanks for the suggestion."

The sword fit perfectly in his hand, the handle a shiny chrome with chartreuse emeralds embedded in the hilt. Metal twisted around itself in an ornate pattern, like entwined serpents.

"Now. Onwards to an adventure." He chuckled. Mermista wasn't going to be so fortunate as to get away like she did last time.

* * *

"This is the spot?" Bow surveyed the shore and marked _Dryl_ onto his newest map.

"I'm sure of it. Just like him to come to a sketchy place like this. Now, I want you all to stay back. I can't risk you getting separated, or even worse, taken hostage. He likes to fight dirty."

Glimmer groaned. "Are we ever gonna get to do anything cool? We've been pursuing this guy forever. I miss when we just sailed around and carried cargo for people to make a dime. Not this weird grudge mission."

"Yes, I promise you'll get to do...something. Eventually. It's just that I care about you all a lot, and I can't have any of you in danger that I'm not there to oversee." She put on a dress coat with flowy tails and her tricorn hat, adorned with gold studs. "I'm going into market. Be good, okay?"

Perfuma tilted her head. "That's what I say to my bird. Are we as good as pets to you, Mermista?"

"No! I appreciate you all. But respectfully, as captain, I'm giving you all orders. And those orders are to stay put."

She put down the ramp and marched off board.

Grunting past the thorns and mumbling past the brush, she perched herself at the highest vantage point she could, observing the market. He had to be there, taking Adora's remark into consideration. It was incredibly busy, and it was going to be hard to find him. She'd manage. He always had a way of making himself known in a crowd.

Attempting to keep a low profile, she tilted the brim of her hat down and hummed to herself. A lady with long purple hair was wrapping up a big chest in iron chains, clearly rattled by something. She approached.

"Excuse me. Have you seen a man, ridiculous mustache, about yay high, with hair the color of a deep wine, wiry muscles, and, um, _fuck_ , tall boots?"

"Who's asking?" She scrunched her brow.

"I'll just say I'm asking as a friend."

"I have. He went that way." She pointed towards the bazaar, which was a giant tent in the middle of the square.

"Fantastic. Thanks." Making haste, she jogged towards it, slipping through the heavy canvas folds and into the interior, which was thick with smoke and the smell of tantalizing foods, the undertone of alcohol nipping at her nostrils. From what she had observed, he liked to hang out in places like these, and tell tremendous tales of his past trepidations.

Carefully she advanced, large and intimidating strangers bumping into her and loudly chatting, the bazaar a haze of bright colors and sounds and scents.

She approached a table who seemed less imposing than the rest. "Pardon me, have you seen a--"

The obvious leader of the group, who was muscular like no woman she had ever seen before, spoke up.

"The idiot foreigner that's going around buying people drinks and showing off?"

"That sounds about right. What makes you think I'm looking for him?"

"You're a sailor, aren't you? I can tell by the way you're dressed." She fidgeted with her earrings, which appeared to be two little pieces of bone.

"Yes. And he is too."

"Perfect. I'm sure you'll find him in no time. Sailors always come in here looking for a fight or something to gamble for."

Out of nowhere, there was a crash and a holler, and a large, orc-ish man slammed his hands on the table.

"You son of a bitch! You can't have all that!"

A cockier sounding voice piped up. "I beat you fair and square. Arm wrestling is the great equalizer, am I right?"

"Not against Klaarg the Mighty, it's not. Now give back the pot!" He lunged at the other man, and the sound of falling coins and jewels echoed off of the concrete floor.

"Sorry, er, Klaarg, rules are rules. Now, unless you'd like a rematch so I can beat you again, I'd best be going."

Mermista recognized the voice, much to her equal dismay and delight.

"Look, sailor scum, you can't just walk in here like you own the place and expect everyone to take kindly to it." One of Klaarg's men raised his glass. "And you're right, you'd best be going unless you want to be pounded into sausage."

"Sausage? That's a risk I'm willing to take." And with the loudest sound of scraping metal she had ever heard, Sea Hawk drew his sword, causing Klaarg to step back. "Now, give a warm greeting to my newest crewmate."

The sword mesmerized her, even from afar, with its opulent design and its massive blade, seemingly designed for someone Klaarg's size. However, Sea Hawk held it perfectly, like he was a polished and proper royal guard. The green jewels on the handle glowed, and she gasped. She couldn't tell if his eyes had caught the reflection of them, or if his eyes were literally shining a bright lime. Something was wrong. She felt it in her chest, and put a hand on her holster.

"Step away from him. You know damn well you don't belong here, stirring up trouble like that."

He flashed her a grin. "Ah! Mermista! Followed me all the way here, eh? Still angry about the beating you took?"

"You wish. I'm here to bring you back. I know that you're working for someone, Sea Hawk. And whoever it is? You're not bringing the Heart of the Sea to them, because I'm going to find out."

"We'll see about that. En garde!" He lept onto the table, the new weapon poised in his grip. "What's the matter? Can't work up the nerve to come at me?"

"I'm going to leave you bleeding out on the pub counter, if that's what it takes to get you to talk." She drew her lance and swung, but it bounced off his blade like it was rubber. "What--?"

"Poor Mermista. Out of practice, I see."

"No! You're cheating, you clown!"

"You call it cheating, I call it being a naturally gifted swordsman." He jumped down and struck her lance, hard, throwing her off step and onto the ground. "And now that you're onto me, princess, I'll have to kill you. Pity." He smirked, his lips inches from hers. As she tried to catch the breath that he had knocked out of her, she noticed that the veins in his neck, in the whites of his eyes, were that same green. His blade poked at her chest, and she sucked in the thick air of the bazaar, before rearing back and kicking him in the stomach. They exchanged hits and parries in a pace she had never seen him manage before, the strange pallor of his skin growing increasingly obvious to the outside observer. It was like he was coming to a crescendo, growing more and more frantic, but somehow, with some unwarranted skill, she blocked them all. Never had she dueled someone so talented, and she was struggling to keep her footing and her breath.

But suddenly, the green snaking strands under his skin rotted into a bluish black, and his strikes grew weaker, his breaths quicker. The energy was sapping from him like it was being withdrawn by a syringe. She was finding it increasingly easy to block him. He swiped at her arm with a sloppy heave, and blood saturated the shoulder of her coat.

"Fuck!" She hissed, and took a hand off the hilt. Normally, this would be a death sentence in the realm of swordplay, but she was fighting him off with one hand now, ridiculously enough.

His eyelids were fluttering, and his stomach was rising and falling quickly with every strained motion. He tried to maintain his composure, but it was clearly a lost cause.

"What, are you tired? I thought you were so sure you'd win a second ago."

"N-no. I'm perfectly fine." He stumbled to stop her blow.

Mermista forced him backwards with the dull side of her lance. "You look worse than usual. Funny."

"Uhn!" He caught himself against the wall, and she heard the smack of his palms taking the hit.

"Poor Sea Hawk. Out of practice, huh?"

She mirrored his smirk, and then mirrored the cut he had given her. He groaned, and the blood that stained his shirt was an inky black.

"Oh my gods."

She blinked, and his weapon clattered to the floor, the sword humming, emitting a dull glow. After his sword fell, he followed, his knees buckling, his face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

Before he hit the ground, she rushed to catch him, the cut bleeding more than it should have, the dark liquid on her hands and dripping onto his from the upper arm.

"This isn't funny, you idiot, I need you awake. Stop it." She inhaled, and then slapped him across the face. No response. "Sea Hawk?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she draped him onto her lap, one hand bracing his head in place.

"...Someone help!"

Heads turned her way, at least, the ones that weren't already watching the duel.

"I think...I think he's been cursed!"


	4. 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mermista decides to toughen up the crew.

The mission hadn't exactly gone the way Mermista expected. She hadn't planned to stay in Dryl this long. Hell, she hadn't expected to find him. And she certainly hadn't expected to be rushing out of a busy bar with the enemy in her arms, who looked dead or despondent. The path back to the ship was even more treacherous with an extra person to carry. She swore at him, although it fell on deaf ears. As soon as she got back to the ship, she thought, she would throw him in the holding cell and interrogate him. Perfuma had a background in medicine. Maybe she would know something about the poison, the curse, even, that was affecting him. A dead Sea Hawk wasn't very useful, unfortunately, so she was going to have to try her best to stop him from bleeding out. That was funny, because that was exactly the fate she had promised him, but when it was actually happening, she wasn't prepared for the sheer amount of _bleeding_ he was doing. Her coat looked like she had doused it in ink, and his breaths were sharp and erratic, as if he had been stabbed in the throat rather than the shoulder.

"Will you hurry up and die? This is getting annoying." She laughed to herself, but there was a pang of fear in her chest when she said it. It didn't feel good to mock him when he was like this. Her empathy was inconvenient. She would have to stop sympathizing with every stupidly self-assured, handsome man that lay dying in her arms.

As she sped full tilt to the dock, she saw that her crew was already waiting for her, perched on the bow in anticipation. "Adora! Prepare the cell."

"What?"

"I said, prepare the cell! Scorpia, let the ramp down! Perfuma, get the first aid kit out!"

They jumped into action, clearly pleased to have actual tasks. The ramp thudded onto the shore, and she grunted, his form growing heavier by the second. Scorpia must have noticed her struggle, and pulled Sea Hawk from her, taking him below deck. She sighed with relief as he heard the cell doors lock, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

"Be gentle with the hostage, please."

Quietly, she led the medic to the holding cell, where Scorpia was standing guard.

She leaned a claw against the bars. "Well, I can say with confidence that he's not going to put up a fight."

Perfuma giggled. "So true. He looks, um, not great." Her and Scorpia exchanged flirtatious glances.

Mermista rolled her eyes. "I need you to unlock the cell. Perfuma, you're coming in here with me."

"If you say so." The keys rattled, and the door swung open, where he was slumped against the wall, doing that same labored breathing as earlier.

"Okay. You're going to have to cooperate, because you don't have your weapon, and Scorpia took your bag."

No response.

"Can you hear me? Nod if you can."

Nothing. Just a half-hearted groan.

"Perfuma? Can you get him some water?" Truthfully, she had no idea how to go about treating him. It was sort of frightening. She had always fantasized about bringing him his demise, but this time, she wasn't even responsible for it. It was just dumb luck, or lack thereof, that a sword would be his downfall.

"Of course, Captain. I think Bow has a book about magical afflictions, because this doesn't look like any disease or infection I've ever seen." She tutted with concern, arms akimbo. "...I think he's bitten off more than he can chew."

This wasn't the first time they had ended up in a situation like this. Well, not anything having to do with poison, or curses, or whatever had happened to him. Every time she thought back to it, it made her cringe. It made her face feel hot with vicarious embarrassment, despite all the times she had tried to erase it from her memory.

She had been out drinking. That night was the last night she ever drank alone. There was a man there, a bartender, who was overly flirtatious. He had a clean face, almost abnormally smooth for someone of legal age, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His hands were quick and sure when he shook and poured cocktails, when he wiped and polished the glasses and counters, and bantered with the trickle of customers that came in over the course of the night. Yes, he was charming, but she charmed him back. Her dry, drunken wit fenced with his earnest, showman-like style of conversation, and they talked all through the night. He was drinking from his own supply. Drink after drink after drink, until they were both bracing against the bar to keep their balance, holding themselves back from whatever it was they feared they would do. Perhaps what they hoped they would do. It didn't last. He challenged her to an arm wrestling match, and she won. She pinned his wrist to the marble countertop and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back. She didn't even know his name, but there she was, _kissing_ this charming man, and before she knew it they were in the storeroom, and then at her place, and then she was alone, the night before a pleasant but regrettable haze. She was dreading the possibility of her crew finding out, having them interrogate her. _Out with it! Have you been smooching with the enemy?_ Even recalling it now, she dragged her hands down her face in shame. She figured with all his taunts and humiliating jabs at her when they fought, that he would bring it up, just to prove a point. But she was absolutely sure that he didn't recognize her. The nice clothes she had worn that night may have been an inadvertent disguise, so she was thankful for that.

But this time, there was nowhere to hide. There was nowhere to run off to. He was right here, though he likely couldn't understand the gravity of it all.

She wished that he remembered her sometimes, and she didn't know why.

A moment later, Perfuma appeared in the cell. "Alright, I borrowed his book. He told me it's a wasting curse, which is the most basic type. The only thing we can do is make him wait it out. It's going to make him really weak, and it's going to make him heal really slowly. I can bandage his wounds, but you're going to have to keep an eye on him."

She huffed. "Fine. We can take shifts. Perfuma, get in there, you're first. I'm going to wait and see if I can get anything out of him."

"Are you sure? This just seems kind of, well, it seems like a bit much. He's already out of it."

"No, it's not. He's always been an overreactor."

* * *

He had, in fact, always been an overreactor.

There was no denying it. Ever since he was young, dramatics were his forte. Before setting out as a sailor, he took several gigs that allowed him to be as flashy as he wanted. Bartenders, a thespian, a salesman, etcetera, and they had scratched that itch, but only temporarily. The call of the sea sung above all else, and long story short, that's how he had ended up as a treasure hunter, a bounty hunter on demand for a pirate king.

_Fuck._ He had forgotten about Hordak. Surely, he had rolled the dice when he bought the sword, as impulse control was difficult for him. But what really stung was the fact that his boss was probably pacing the floor wondering why the tracker in his pocket wasn't on Dryl, where his cache had been, or on his ship, homeward bound, and instead on a random vessel heading out to the middle of nowhere. The amount of trouble he was probably in was unfathomable. He had been beaten and stripped a few times by Hordak's men when he was caught stealing, and when he gave up a bounty, it was never a pretty sight.

The worst punishment came from above Hordak. Sea Hawk had been lucky enough to escape it, but if a hire broke too many rules, well, it was a guarantee that they never would again. The man who controlled Hordak, whose name he wasn't sure of, had created a band of super assassins, pirates and treasure seekers who were powerful, deadly, and mindless. The leader had these enchanted chips that he put into them, and it erases any semblance of independent thought or consciousness, streamlining them into targeted machines.

Fuck, again. Was Hordak going to get him chipped?

He didn't have time to ponder, because the pain that was coursing through his body was too distracting. His vision, it was like looking through a foggy, soot-dusted window, and his blood felt like it was trying to burst through his skin. The figures around him were but a blur, and the voices ordering him around fell on deaf ears. It sounded like he was trying to hear someone above the surface speak while he was underwater. Of course, he had never feared death. It was around every corner, especially with the kind of life he lived. He was left with touch and smell, and pain permitting, he could make out that he was on some kind of paved surface. Even his nostrils burned with what could only be described as the smell of decay. Perhaps laying down and dying _was_ the best option here. Every way out of this situation left him royally screwed some way or another. His clothes felt like fire licking at his flesh, and there was something icy cold holding his wrists together, like the sting of cold metal amplified times one thousand. He couldn't take it anymore. He writhed around, his flimsy blouse ripping against the rough wall behind him. With the apparent sensitivity to stimuli the curse had given him, it felt like being stabbed by an army of tiny swordsmen. Alright, the top was off, and the boiling sensation in his veins died down a bit, but his vision and eardrums were still swimming. Everything was painful, drowning him, and he recalled the verse about a fair maiden named Ophelia.

_There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds_

_Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke._

_When down her weedy trophies and herself_

_Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,_

_And mermaid-like awhile, they bore her up._

_Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,_

_As one incapable of her own distress,_

_Or like a creature native and endued unto_

_that element. But long it could not be_

_Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,_

_Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay_

_To muddy death._

That was him, the wench weighed down by his own garments, naive and peaceful in the knowledge that his own mistakes were going to kill him. But like her, he was sabotaging himself, but fully aware that this was his element. And he knew that if his cockiness was any judgement, he would be the one pulled from his melodious lay to a murky demise.

But he couldn't stop. He didn't want to. Why?

It was too much fun.

Wherever he would wake up when he came to, _if_ he came to, was his problem to-be. One thing was certain, and that was that it was going to be a wonderful adventure. It probably wouldn't end in the utter eradication of his psychological autonomy.

Probably.

* * *

Mermista chewed her lip. "Well, he won't talk. Shit, he won't even _grunt_ when I want him to."

By now, the whole crew was gathered around his cell.

Adora shrugged. "What, you think he's hiding something?"

Catra cracked her knuckles. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Bow squeaked. "Probably not?"

She smirked. "I say we claw it out of him."

Glimmer and Scorpia stepped up to the door.

"Well, if you insist."

"I'm the muscle, after all."

Perfuma hesitated to tap Mermista on the shoulder. "Um...you all go ahead. I'll wait with Bow."

She fumbled with the ring of keys. "If you all want to be babies about it, fine," The door swung open.

"But this is how pirates get things done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretentious shakespearean prose? in MY seamista fic? it's more likely than you think.

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically practice for a story me and @400bugsinatrenchcoat are writing :) hope you like it bestie


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